‘I never did,’ William said quietly. He hesitated before he continued. ‘What do you know about Laura Chalmers?’ he asked. ‘And her brother, Justin Chalmers?’
‘Nothing! Why should I?’
William hooked the back of the spare chair and drew it to the bed to sit next to her. ‘Has your husband ever discussed either of them with you?’
‘He’s never even mentioned them. Neither of us ever met them before we came here. Why do you ask?’
Before she could respond, James began to moan. As they leaned over him, he opened his eyes.
‘Oh, thank God, thank God,’ Angela wept.
William rang for a nurse, then looked back at the weeping mother caressing her son’s face. ‘I’m here, darling. Mummy’s here, my love. You are going to be all right, I’m here.’
James shut his eyes again. ‘I know you are, I’ve been listening to you two. I just didn’t have the strength to tell you to shut the fuck up! I’ve got to play cricket and I must find my pads,’ he said feverishly, trying to sit up.
The heart monitor began bleeping at an alarming rate, and a doctor and nurse hurried in. Angela looked terrified and the doctor asked her to leave, but she hovered at her son’s bedside.
‘Is he going to be all right?’ she gasped, and repeated the question over and over as she sat beside William in the corridor outside James’s room.
Half an hour later the doctor came out. He said they had given James something to calm him down, and he would sleep for a few hours. Angela went back to his bedside.
‘We found not only cocaine in his body but also heroin and Ecstasy,’ the doctor said to William. ‘I’ve had three other Ecstasy cases in the last month. One didn’t recover, one had irreversible brain damage, the other’s back with his family, showing little or no side-effects. Earlier this year we had a young boy dead on arrival.’
‘Oliver Bellingham?’ William asked.
The doctor gave a brief nod. His other patients had been local kids, and William felt the man’s undercurrent of anger.
‘Do the police know who’s dealing it?’ asked William, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The doctor was already moving off. ‘If your son recovers, I suggest you ask him who he bought the tablets from. Nothing I say makes the slightest difference to the police. Perhaps they’ll listen to someone with your wealth!’
William did not correct the doctor with regard to James. Perhaps if he had known he was not related, he would not have been so forthcoming.
‘He thought you were his father,’ Angela said, bitterly shaking her head. ‘How incongruous. If you knew how I longed to be pregnant by you, longed for your child, then prayed that you would marry me. Now here we are praying for my son to live. But he’s not yours. I want my husband here, William. Please try to find him — at least do that for me.’
He walked outside, hoping to God the police would get to Matlock in time — not for Angela or for James, but to save Justin from committing another murder. He called the island, only to be told the fishing-boat had not yet returned. William wanted to walk away from the wretched Angela, and he worried about Justin, but he went back into the hospital to sit with her. It was the least he could do.
Matlock’s big hands were clasped around his knees. They had been anchored for a while, and the boat was rocking gently. ‘Please, I’m begging you, turn back,’ he said quietly to Justin.
‘We can’t turn back, Matlock, because I haven’t finished,’ he replied.
Matlock tried to stand up. To his horror he couldn’t. His legs felt like lead, his head throbbed and he started to panic.
‘Fix you another?’ Justin held up a clean glass.
Matlock looked up, and his vision blurred. ‘What the hell have you given me?’ His voice was thick.
‘What they used to pump into Laura. Largactyl it’s called. Just so you know what it feels like. Remember, she was only a little girl.’ Justin delved into his pockets and took out one newspaper cutting after another, waving them in front of Matlock’s face. ‘How much did they pay you for these? Or did they pay you more to write a good headline? How much did you earn for “Devil’s Children”?’ he screamed.
Sweat dripped down Matlock’s back as he fought to keep his eyes open. His tongue felt as though it was swelling and filling his mouth. His ears were ringing and buzzing, his heart thudding, and he had lost control of his limbs. It was a living nightmare.
‘And the book. Angels or Devils!’ Justin prodded Matlock’s chest with it. ‘I’m going to make you eat every word you say you never wrote. Liar!’
He gripped Matlock’s jaw, prised open his mouth and stuffed in newspaper cuttings and pages of the book. Matlock was trying to breathe. He felt as if he was dying.
A siren was wailing, growing louder, closer.
Justin looked down at Matlock. The man looked like a rag doll; in his dead eyes he saw the reflection of his own face, a devil’s mask of rage.
Justin had his hand on the lever to pull up the anchor when the coastguard’s launch came alongside. A man was yelling through a megaphone: ‘Prepare to board!’
‘No!’ Justin screamed, dragging at the lever.
Then he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop them. He moved back to Matlock. ‘It isn’t over. You hear me? It isn’t over.’
Matlock tried to stand, but slumped back on the deck. He tried again, clawing at the sides of the boat.
‘You got a Humphrey Matlock on board?’ the officer shouted.
‘Yeah, what’s up?’ Justin called back.
‘We got an emergency. He’s wanted back on Tortola. We’re coming aboard.’
‘He’s drunk!’
Matlock clung to the railing and tried to steady himself. He swayed towards the officer’s voice, but the boat rocked and he lurched to the side, toppled over and fell into the dangerous water between the boats.
Seconds later, he surfaced, his arms held out for help. But the swell dragged him under. He surfaced again and was thrown back towards the launch. His head cracked open and blood streamed down his face.
Justin uncoiled a rope from one of the capstans and threw it into the water a good six feet from the struggling man. The officers also threw ropes and life-belts, but Matlock was still grappling with the water. Justin pulled off his shirt, shouted directions for the coastguard to move away, then dived into the sea. He swam underwater for a few seconds, resurfaced, then took a deep breath and went under again. He found Matlock easily. The man’s eyes were open, his legs hardly moving, arms splayed wide. He was sinking and a small stream of bubbles drifted from his mouth. Justin swam beneath him, took hold of his foot and dragged him down. Then he surfaced, gasping for breath.
‘I got him,’ he shouted, holding up one hand for the rope. He caught it, took a breath and went down again. He found Matlock and held him down until the last faint stream of bubbles ceased. Then he looped the rope beneath Matlock’s arms, swam up and signalled for the men to pull.
Gradually Matlock’s body inched out of the water. His head lolled on his chest. The officers hauled him to the deck and tried to resuscitate him. One gave him the kiss of life, but something was blocking Matlock’s airway. The coastguard stuck his fingers down the man’s throat and pulled out a sodden piece of newspaper. It was an article with the headline ‘Devil’s Children’.
Chapter twenty-one
William had sent out one of the orderlies for some coffee and sandwiches, which he now looked at with distaste. Angela, however, sipped her coffee, rocking backwards and forwards on her seat.